Seventeen Again
by JueJue
Summary: It's Rachel that plans Mckinley's 10 year high school reunion. She's the only hobbit who would go through as much trouble as she did find and invite Santana. There, Santana realizes that she is, in some ways, still stuck in high school. Still stuck in that Cheerio outfit and still holding hands with a certain blonde.


It's Rachel that plans Mckinley's 10 year high school reunion. She's the only hobbit who would go through as much trouble as she did find and invite Santana. There, Santana realizes that she is, in some ways, still stuck in high school. Still stuck in that Cheerio outfit and still holding hands with a certain blonde.

A/N: Second person, Santana's POV.

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**Seventeen Again**

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You hate the bile that rises up to your throat when you see her. Because she isn't supposed to be here, she isn't supposed to be here because she's supposed to have graduated the year after you and she's not supposed to have fallen back a year in the first place and the regret fills up faster that you can drown it out with alcohol.

Beside you, Emily grips your hand tighter, running the pad of her thumb comfortingly down the back of your hand. You're grown up now so you know how to retain your composure and you're polite enough to glance at her.

You don't know what to say, so you don't say anything. You meet her eyes and she smiles apologetically at you as if you had never wronged her in the first place. The lump in your throat swells, making it hard to speak so you just nod and turn.

It was Emily's idea for you to go so you hate her too. Mostly, you hate yourself for consenting because you figured, whats the bad idea? It's not like she's going to be there, it's just a friendly get together with the old Glee club and as much as you hate to admit it, you've missed them.

Hell, you even miss Shuester and you owe him a congratulations on the latest win at Nationals.

But you go because you miss Lima in a way an adopted orphan misses an orphanage, with strange nostalgia and confused love. You go because you're pretty sure she isn't going to be there. You're wrong and you're staring at Brittany now, in a crystal blue cocktail dress as you turn and pull Emily to sit down at your reserved seats.

You want to find the Hobbit and strangle her for not letting you know before hand. You don't because you're grown up. Grown ups don't go and strangle people or make a scene at a party. You settle for greeting old friends, being introduced to new faces that are fiances and babies and boyfriends, fuck buddies, fake dates and all.

_She's_ grown up too, you think absently as Puck scuttles over with two lady friends.

You introduce Emily as your fiance and Puck woos at the ring. You did yourself good, he says, lightly punching you in the shoulder.

Through the night you meet other strangers, you learn that _she's_ the new cheer coach and thats why she's here at the reunion.

Emily asks you if you want to dance when the first slow song comes on but you shake your head, having already looked over and finding her slow dancing with a guy. You've guiltily noticed her at the corner of your eye through the night, she has no date, her heels are four inches, she still looks great, she still dances like a dancing queen.

Emily understands and sits by your side. Emily has seen the photos and heard the drunken tearful gibberish.

Your chest burns as the night wares on, you listen to old classics sung in the high school gymnasium, a good portion of the songs had been done in Glee club so many years ago. They switch between soulful ballads by Rachel, hippy beats by Mercedes and a couple other duets by new faces. You sing once on stage out of obligation, the song dedicated to Emily. The crowd cheers when you say this and your eyes lock on to Emily's the entire time.

She can't look over at _her,_ you can't risk that, you know a look at her is all it takes for you to break down so you don't.

You've learned, you've grown, you think. You avoid the things that are bad for you, for your relationship, and you avoid them because that's what a good person does.

You're a good person.

You think.

You take Emily back to the hotel. You lay down in bed and she hugs you tight as if trying to keep the pieces of you from breaking. You hug her back, hoping the warmth is enough to keep the pieces of yourself glued together.

It doesn't. The guilt eats at you, it doesn't gnaw on you like the regular days, it takes giant bites of the adhesive thats threatening to melt away.

At two in the morning, you find yourself at the hotel's bar.

At three in the morning, you find her next to you, sitting and smiling and looking like she did when you promised her you would never leave her side. Where you promised her that you'd always be together, promised and promised and you broke it.

(You damn Lima for being a small ass fucking town. You damn it that this is the only acceptable hotel in it and of course everyone would be booked here.)

She's so damn gentle with you, so damn understanding you don't want her to be. You want her to scream and yell, you've wanted that since you saw her. To throw a platter at your face and ask why you never came back. You wanted her to get up on stage and attack you because you deserve it but she doesn't.

She doesn't and it drives you crazy how all she does is understandingly tuck a loose piece of hair from your face and offers to buy another drink. You shake your head and turn to the TV screen showing some channel. You don't care. You just can't look at her.

She does the same.

You stop drinking because it makes crazy thoughts come into your head. Crazy thoughts about running away together. Fantasies about her taking you to her hotel room and ravishing you. You imagine her taking your hand and curling your fingers together so much that it actually happens.

"Is she the one?" Brittany asks after a long time.

You shrug, you sob, you hiccup all at the same time.

"I love her," you say. "She loves me."

"Then she's a lucky girl."

You want to be seventeen again. Seventeen was such an easy number. If you were seventeen, you'd lean over to kiss Brittany right now. If Brittany were seventeen, she'd roll her eyes, tell you you're a silly bear and the only person who you truly love is her and her only. That you're two peas in a pod and that's it.

But you're not seventeen anymore.

"Can I ask one more question?"

You nod and you know it before she asks. It still hurts when she does.

"Why'd you leave me?"

Because you were scared. Because you were a fool, a stupid ass coward with too much pride. Because you couldn't stand the idea of-

"I worked so hard, San. I worked so hard to graduate high school because you promised," Brittany is sobbing, "And you said, you said you'd be there that summer and you never came and you never came back for me, San."

The name pierces you, no one calls you San. You don't let anyone call you San. Emily calls you S, calls your Tana but not that.

Your throat goes dry, your heart breaks.

"I called, and I wrote, I asked everyone and they said you disappears and…"

"I'm sorry," you croak. "I'm sorry, Britt."

"Why?" She asks, pleading, gripping your hand harder. "What did I do wrong, San?"

"Nothing!" You say, "You did nothing wrong!"

"Then what happened?"

"I don't know!" You raises your voice, articulating harder because the tears are hot and sliding down your cheeks. "I don't know okay? You finished high school and I was scared that when I came back you wouldn't love me any more because I was different, because _you_ were different! Because you'd know that you could do so much _better. _I was scared because you could have just grown out of me and you'd see the world for what it is and-"

"-_I still love you now._"

The words cut so deep, you feel yourself slowly slide apart. The pieces are coming undone, the ones you worked so hard to tape back after abandoning her.

"Don't say that." You whisper, feeling the past nine years melt away with a look into her eyes, shining with tears. "Don't say that Britt."

"Why not?"

"We're not young anymore. You can't just say those things."

"Why? I love you San."

"Don't. Please." You turn away, "You can't. You shouldn't."

She moves closer to you and every logical thing inside your head tells you to move. You can't.

She kisses you with passion that burns you, almost. You kiss her back with the energy you can muster, feel the pieces weld together to become a whole again.

"We can't do this," you say between kisses.

"I love you, San." Brittany crushes your lips together again and again. " And I have a lot of years to live and I want to spend it every day with you and your silliness."

"Why won't you hate me, Britt?" You crush your bodies together, pinning her against the bar.

"I do." Brittany stops kissing you. You're surprised and scared. "I hated you every day you didn't come back to me. I hated you so much when you left me and so much more now that you're back after ten years. But." She swallows, "I can spend the rest of tonight hating you because I love you or I can take this chance to love you for about seventy more years."

Brittany shrugs. "Makes sense."

"You hate me?" You ask numbly.

"Very much so."

"You love me?"

"With all my heart."

You pause. "Do you forgive me?"

"Not right now." Brittany pulls away. "But I'm willing to try, if you're willing to try."

"Yes." You blurt because it's so damn easy. You want those years back, you want them in a way that hurts because if you knew this was all it took then you would have come back, you would have never left. You would have…

"I grew up because of you, though, San." Brittany had always had a way of reading your thoughts. "You left and I learned how to hold out on my own."

You gulp, "I was so afraid that when you did and you wouldn't…"

_Love me anymore._

"…But I do. And I always will."

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Angsty stuff. Edited from my tumblr account, fixed some things but...yeah. Review~


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